


it's alright (it's okay)

by axterisms



Series: ambrosia [1]
Category: Dream SMP (Fandom), Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Administrator Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Demonic Possession, Demons, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Light Angst, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, more than anything tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29835321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axterisms/pseuds/axterisms
Summary: It starts like this:A boy is in the forest and a being of light towers over him and calls himblessedwhile pressing a kiss to the top of his head.He does not exit the same.Or, sometimes the road to hell is paved with good intentions or maybe you make a deal with the devil that you can't take back.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone
Series: ambrosia [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i didn’t think hamilton rp thru blockmen would be what got me back into writing but here we are i guess. i’m going to be honest with you right now and tell you upfront that my understanding of the timeline is weak and basically nonexistent, i will literally watch a live lore stream after missing the last two and pretend i 100% understand what’s happening.
> 
> while there's no set chapter count on this, a lot of this is just going to be i guess drabbles?? in one chapter??? one-shots in one story because chapters and time progression is hard. all of this is highly self indulgent as i mess with some of fav tropes (dreamons). lastly, what's??? canon?? there’s going to be inaccuracies everywhere we’re playing in my sandbox now.

It starts like this: 

A boy is in the forest and a being of light towers over him and calls him _blessed_ while pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

He does not exit the same. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It starts like this: 

He’s tugging at Sapnap’s sleeve as he yells at George to hurry up behind them and they’re in the same forest that he once met an Old God and while Dream is still developing his air for dramatics, he thinks it's fitting to do it here. Grabbing both of their hands in his, he tells them to hold on. 

Everyone is waiting for them at home but it’ll always be the three of them first and foremost as they stumble into the new world’s spawn point.

“Dream?” Sapnap asks, looking around them and seeing rolling green hills and towering trees.

“What is this?”

“Our new home.”

 _Ours_ , he promises even as he willed it into existence and forced the code to bend to his whims because it would be nothing without them in it. 

  
  


* * *

The server grows and maybe this is where he’ll look back to pinpoint as their ruin. 

_Look_ , Dream will say, _this is where we fell apart_. 

But at the time he thinks nothing of it, it’s just a place for his friends to be safe. 

Tommy and Turbo are children and he plays with them, teases them about discs he cares nothing for and the battles are all just a game.

And maybe that’s ultimately the mistake, maybe he should have been ruthless from the beginning because suddenly there’s a country and he’s getting frantic messages from his friends about land that was shared by all of them being suddenly owned and lead. 

Maybe Dream shouldn't have pushed it, allowed those few chunks to be owned, and gave up and gave in. But he’s being looked at as a leader outside of the title of _friend_ and suddenly he’s the bad guy, the villain, the one who’s in the wrong even though all he ever wanted was to keep his friends safe. 

  
  


* * *

It starts like this:

A shadow in his mind, darkness tinting his dreams, another voice in his consciousness that grows more tempting to listen to as time goes on. If they want him to be a villain—why shouldn’t become one? At least then he can write his own narrative, let him discard this soft heart of his, dig it out of the cage of his ribs and toss it aside. 

He was never a docile sheep and he refuses to be the loyal dog waiting at his master’s heels.

_Be vicious._ _Be ruthless_.

Only then will they listen. 

  
  


* * *

L'Manburg goes down in smoke and flames and Wilbur dies a martyr. 

(They say that history is written by the victors so why is he still the villain in the story? The tyrant that should have been displaced? 

Did he just simply win the battle but lose the war.)

Maybe it’s not about victories but tragedies—let him become a victim of his own making—would they love him then? 

_Don’t you want to fix this_? The voice asks in the dead of night. _What are you willing to give?_

And all he can think is: _Everything_. 

There is no ichor running through his veins just the sparks of divinity at his fingertips. A child playing the role too large for him and he begins to believe the poison that is passed between whispered words—sometimes he wakes up and a monster looks back instead. 

It might be easier to give in, to stop trying to hold it together when it so desperately wants to shatter. Sometimes people can’t learn until they experience the consequence—a child doesn’t understand the concept of hot until they’ve burnt their hand once (but Dream created this world for his friends’ happiness—not their destruction). 

  
  


* * *

It starts like this:

Sometimes he wakes up and he’s somewhere he doesn’t remember being, morning dew damp on his skin and missing hours of memories. 

Days passing like molasses and a soft haze stretched across his mind, eventually, days go missing and it feels like he’s a skipping record missing chorus of the song. It’s too late by the time Dream realises he’s no longer in control and there’s nothing he can do when he’s forcibly ousted from his own body. 

* * *

They think they’ve won with their inescapable prison and the villain safely locked away. They can wash their hands away from him and finally move on. 

Except Sapnap still remembers his friend who called this place his home and he needs closure even if everyone else is fine pretending that everything is now fixed. So it’s maybe more than a little shocking to have the startling realisation that whoever was in front of him wasn’t Dream. 

“You still don’t get it do you?” The figure says, arms swinging wide open as they tilt their head. “I’m not Dream.” 

And Sapnap could tell from the way he stood to the smile that looked unfamiliar on Dream’s face and maybe he should have known but he just thought his friend had changed—they all had after the war after all. 

“I guess taking all that extra time was worth it. I was so _worried_ y’know? The little exorcism loosened his control but I didn’t want to get rid of him just yet because I just knew you guys would notice. It’s always hard to get away with these things when they have people who _care_ for them.” 

His posture shifts and suddenly everything seems to radiate _Dream_ from the way his shoulder slouches to the easy smile on his lips. “I was almost caught a few times too, but luckily he already seemed to have been falling off the deep end by the time I completely took over. It's always easier when they're distraught and all I have to be is the devil on their shoulder.”

“What did you do to Dream? Where is he?” Sapnap finally asks, looking at the Dreamon wearily as he backs up to put as much space between them as possible.

“Well eventually I’m him and he’s me and well, this bad boy can only fit one of us!” 

His stomach drops at the idea of Dream _gone_ and he hastily glances at his communicator hoping that Sam got his message through the Dreamon’s monologuing. There’s a ghost of a touch against his cheek and glancing him up he realises the Dreamon was suddenly next to him tsking. 

“Aw, don’t cry! I haven’t given anything for you to cry about _yet_ – ” the Dreamon begins, only to pause when the lava begins to visibly retreat back, “but I see that it’s time for me to go. I’m sure I’ll see you soon!” 

There’s the warping sound of someone teleporting and suddenly Sapnap is alone in the cell with his thoughts and the idea that Dream was gone. He hears the sound of the moving platform and the comforting weight of Sam’s hand on his shoulder but he’s too busy processing the idea of actually mourning for his friend. He had grieved for him already, thinking Dream was dead when they put him into the cell but there’s no closure to this—no time in the past where he could pinpoint as being no long Dream but the Dreamon. 

He’s wiping away the last of his tears when he hears a shuffle and looks up to see a flash of white, and suddenly there’s a small blob peeking out at them from behind the lectern. “Sam? Sapnap? Is he gone?"

...

...

...

Sapnap hears Sam’s sharp inhale next to him, his grip tightening before loosening on his shoulder as they both stare at the figure in front of them. 

The voice is familiar even if the form isn’t and he feels like he’s going through every stage of grief only to swing wildly back into denial because _what the fuck_. 

  
“ _Dream_?” Sapnap finally manages to sputter out after a few seconds of blank silence between the three of them and drops to his knees in front of the white blob, gently scooping him into his hands. “What the fuck man?”


	2. Chapter 2

Anger comes first, boiling in the pit of his stomach as he fights against the confines of his own body. Maybe if Dream shouts loud enough, they would finally hear him when he screams.

Why can't they tell? How _dare_ they think this was him?

When he's memorised the tone of their laughter and the slant of their smiles, can read a story in the very way they hold themselves—yet the Dreamon turns him into a warped monstrous thing and they accept that he's a lost cause.

Eventually, Dream surrenders, settling into the prison that is his lost body. And it’s after, when he has too much time to think, that the regret churns with its bitter, lingering taste. 

Is he absolved of the sins committed if he was not there for them—if the blood slick on his palms was never his choice ( _but he had agreed, shaken hands with the devil and exchanged self-autonomy for potential peace,_ how can he forget the crooning in his ears that whispered promises)?

In the end, it boils down to a regrettable fact: Dream can't deny that the path that was taken would have diverged wildly from the one he himself would have chosen. Perhaps he wouldn't have been as violent with his ultimatums, would have tried for peace, for _kindness_ , but the Dreamon feeds on his wants and anger, this righteous fury that has burnt for so long he thinks it'll only die when he does.

Desperation comes next, hands pounding invisible walls of his own mind. Everything is falling apart, _his world is falling apart_ , and he'll start a war or bring a country to its knees, but not if this was the cost.

_Let me out. Guys, that's not me. Please don't hurt them. I love you. I always did._

Dream begs a day, an hour, a minute of time with them as himself. Let him soothe the hurts that he has created with his own hands.

But the control he has weakened with each passing day, this body that was once wholly his, is being ripped from him one day at a time. It's terrifying to know that there is nothing left of him—nothing that is _his_. His world that he has willed to be is now being torn asunder and its people hurt. The ever-flowing warmth that was his friends has chilled, and now his very person is being stolen from him.

There is nothing poetic or graceful when Dream is ousted from his body—it’s messy and cruel, pain echoing from the very essence of his code. The process isn’t as simple as moving water from a bucket to a lake, but tearing skin from sinew, ripping away the very foundations he’s been nailed down to.

Suddenly Dream is nothing.

And perhaps his world could continue without him until it is nothing but ash and ruins.

Except an Old God has called him _blessed_ and he has forced the world to bow to him to create a home.

So Dream continues to exist, the world reaching back and reminding him how to _be._ He reaches around to gather fragments of himself that have been tossed back into the world and shoddily pieces himself back together.

He is not whole, may never be whole when there's an aching pain that lingers in his heart and a chill that goes down to the very marrow of his bones, but this has to be enough.

* * *

"So," the Dreamon says using _his_ voice, "I guess this is mine now, yeah?"

Fear is unfamiliar when he's lived his entire life running across treetops and jumping from cliffs, but Dream suddenly feels so _small,_ all his power contained in such a helpless vessel. He's helpless when the Dreamon leans down to pluck him up from the ground. "How about you take a nice long nap? I don't need you to ruin my plans."

He sleeps. He wakes. He waits.

The Dreamon has his hubris, but none of his desperation—the onset of paranoia that has accumulated over time. Their pride ends with an obsidian cell where Dream is finally let out to be mocked (‘ _Look at the ruins of your world now_. _They hate you.’_ ) until boredom sets in. 

* * *

"So what? It was never with you? When I thought you hated us, convinced you weren't my brother anymore— _it wasn't you_?" Sapnap asks, pleading and desperate, smoke seeping out with every exhale as his words become more frantic.

"That's complicated," Dream replies, bouncing over the tabletop to stand in front of his friend, bending back slightly so they could see eye-to-eye. "Do you mean when I was fully me? Or when I had minimum influence from the Dreamon? Or when I had I last had any sort of agency within my own body, because all of them have different answers.”

And okay, maybe Dream's socialisation skills became a little rusty after his conversational partners were limited to solely the Dreamon because Sapnap's expression contorts into something painful and he wishes he wasn't stuck in this amorphous form.

"Hey Pandas, don't be sad." His body folds in becoming smaller, as he shuffles closer. "That’s not fair, I don’t have arms to hug you with right now, so you can’t be sad." And it's not enough, but Dream taps into his power so he can hover high enough to settle onto Sapnap's shoulder and gently bump his cheek.

"Dream, I didn't even know it wasn't you. I told myself that I hated you."

* * *

At its conception, when it was still a tenuous and fragile thing, Dream's family was him and Sapnap.

Precocious children leaping from server to server in search of an adventure and ready to take on any world they landed in. And maybe at first, in its earliest form, this is simply friendship—pinkies winded around each other and giggled promises.

"We're brothers!" Sapnap exclaims, face round with baby fat and tiny hands gripping his sleeves. They're in the middle of a clearing surrounded by daisies and grazing sheep. "Which means we're gonna be together for- _ever."_

For Dream, whose life before Sapnap was composed of forests and loneliness, tosses his arms around the boy and pulls him in close at the statement. "Together forever and ever! We'll get a house and a cat and everything."

"A cow and some fish!"

"And a bookcase for all our souvenirs too."

They laugh, falling softly onto the grass as they map out their future home, from the position of each room to the blocks they would use.

* * *

Sapnap is effervescent, beaming sunlight and summer heat. Where Dream will demand to be centre-stage, they naturally look at Sapnap because he wears his heart on his sleeve and lets his emotions be read like an open book. He's forest fires and the pounding of feet against dirt when he's angry and joyful laughter and the warmth of a hug when he's happy.

And he hasn't changed from distance and time, Dream can read his expression as it morphs from despair to determination.

"We'll fix this," Sapnap says like it's a promise—like he's a soothsayer who has read it among the smoke and ash. "We'll kick the Dreamon's ass and you'll get your body back and you can give me all the hugs you owe me."

"I'll never let you go again, you'll never have a minute to yourself."

Dream jumps down from Sapnap's shoulder, floating in mid-air. "But first, do you know where George is?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might have also noticed this now has a series...which is because i wrote one things here and there that i would love to explore in other aus because almost-a-god!dream lives rent free in my mind. so hopefully maybe i'll have something up with for that.
> 
> but most importantly!! thank you to everyone who's read and kudos!! this...is still 90% introspection and me cryin about sapnap & dreams friendship ahaha (can u tell). if there's anything you want to see let me know & i'm very curious w/ what all of you are thinking!!

**Author's Note:**

> me: haha blob!dream doesnt have hands. imagine if he can telepathically move objects around but struggles to open a door and that's it...that's the collapse of the smp bc dream couldn't open doors. 
> 
> if you can tell dialogue is my enemy but im hoping to use this fic (and future fics!!) as practice. i rlly love the idea of deity!dream or something close to it. but i also love blob!dream. i hope you were able to take some sort of enjoyment out of this even if there wasn't much to it!


End file.
